


A Strange-Looking Good Boy

by sweetNsimple



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Exophilia, Fluff and Smut, Implied/referenced rimming, Large Cock, M/M, Master Mikhail Victor, Master/Pet, Monsters, Pre-Raccoon City, Pre-Resident Evil, Puppy Play, Werewolf Sergei Vladimir, Werewolves, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple
Summary: Mikhail Victor was actually a cat person. Canines were messy and dependent and loud. They demanded time he didn’t have and a routine his airtight schedule would not make room for. He had resolutely refused to ever bring a dog into his life, much less his apartment. However, when that mangy, pitiful beast followed him back to his private chambers that first night, he… well. Mikhail decided that he could be Master to this dog, at least.
Relationships: Mikhail Victor/Sergei Vladimir
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	A Strange-Looking Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I highly suggest that people look in awe upon Jakub Rozalski's art because I adore him and I want his prints so much. He does art of werewolves fairly often and I was flipping through them today, getting inspired in a bad (good?) sort of way. Please leave comments! Let me know what you think. I wrote this to Marilyn Manson.

Mikhail Victor was actually a cat person. Canines were messy and dependent and loud. They demanded time he didn’t have and a routine his airtight schedule would not make room for. He had resolutely refused to ever bring a dog into his life, much less his apartment. However, when that mangy, pitiful beast followed him back to his private chambers that first night, he… well. Mikhail decided that he could be Master to this mutt, at least.

~:~

Mikhail entered his apartment in the barracks of the U.B.C.S. and the monstrous animal was already there, waiting for him in his coat of pristine white fur.

Sergei Vladimir was splayed across the floor, one eye forever scarred shut and the other slitting open as his Master interrupted his nap. The beast of myth lazily pushed himself off the ground to standing, towering over Mikhail.

The beast gave a slavering grin, serrated canines bared in his long muzzle. This monster was incapable of human speech, and so leaned down to lick his greeting across Mikhail’s cheek.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?” Mikhail groused. He shook his head and pushed the oversized mutt away. The monster did not even waver. Instead, his tail began to wag, making his hindquarters quiver. Immense paws with long digits and thumbs alighted on Mikhail’s hips and pulled him closer so that a black nose could burrow against his neck, scenting him.

Mikhail shivered as a rough, slimy tongue bathed his pulse.

“Impatient mongrel,” he muttered. He pulled his fingerless gloves off and tossed them on the table he kept next to his door. Freed from them, he petted his palms down the beast’s barrel chest and over his fluffy belly. The beast rumbled with pleasure, gusting a breath against Mikhail’s ear.

“You must think you’re God’s gift to earth.” The impossible wolf-like humanoid pulled away to give Mikhail a lopsided grin, tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth. Sergei was insufferable as a human, spouting his bullshit about the greatness of the Soviet Union and the immortality of Umbrella, the importance of what Umbrella did.

Mikhail despised the _other_ Sergei and the _other_ Sergei despised Mikhail – a man he believed to be a traitor to his country, a domestic terrorist, and too softhearted for his position. Like this, however, when Sergei was simply a very strange-looking canine with huge, fluffy ears and scars that ran like pink lines through his snowy white fur, Mikhail was Master. A _good_ Master for a good dog.

“Are you hungry?” Mikhail asked, already going toward his small kitchenette. Lord Spencer had stocked Rockfort Island with small game, likely just for Sergei and Nicholai if not to keep the other mercenaries sharp. Mikhail had hunted recently and his freezer was stocked with skinned rabbit and fowl. He kept a majority of his stock frozen, only pulling out two or three morsels a day to warm to room temperature in a cooler full of hot water. He popped open the cooler and Sergei’s long muzzle landed on his shoulder, the creature sniffing excitedly.

Mikhail caught a rabbit by its back paws and held it in the air. It dripped on his floor, pink water that had mixed with its thawed blood.

“Sit!”

Sergei sat down on his haunches, front paws between his feet, and his tail wagged happily. His one eye was focused intently on the food, saliva beginning to drool from the corner of his mouth.

It was easy to think of this Sergei as someone different from the man whose company he regularly suffered from. _His_ Sergei, this wolf, could not sneer and jab at Mikhail with carefully aimed insults. _His_ Sergei loved to be petted and stroked and doted on, and Mikhail was a very affectionate Master who wanted to dote. _His_ Sergei was a good boy and the _other_ Sergei was a bastard that Mikhail often fantasized about killing. _His_ Sergei made him feel good and the _other_ Sergei made him feel like he could gladly torture a man to death for his own amusement. Mikhail did not like the way the _other_ Sergei made him feel.

“You should always be my dog,” Mikhail told the monster. “I believe we would both be much happier.” Sergei’s ears perked forward. He understood Mikhail’s words and yet did not let the captain know if he agreed in his own nonverbal ways.

The human sighed and tossed the hare into the air. Sergei surged forward, snapping it up almost instantly, and he held it between his paws as he crunched with delight on its flesh and tiny bones. Sergei was not a clean eater. He was, however, intelligent, and so he used Mikhail’s sink to clean his paws and snout after his treat. His Master scoffed at the mess of gore and blood left behind on his previously immaculate kitchen linoleum. “Sergei!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at the drivels of blood and guts. “Clean up.”

Sergei licked his chops and fell to all fours so that he could drag his tongue over the floor, lapping up his mess. Once there was not a spot of gore left, Mikhail pulled out his mop and bucket to quickly wipe the linoleum down. He didn’t want the floor to smell or be sticky with saliva. Sergei watched avidly as he did so, still licking his dangerous fangs.

Following the meal, Mikhail did paperwork at his desk, using his socked feet to rubbed Sergei’s upturned belly. The beast lounged on his back by his Master’s chair, massive paws resting peacefully on his powerful chest. Sergei sighed and groaned with pleasure, back leg occasionally twitching. Mikhail curled his toes and scratched that adorable belly, much to Sergei’s wiggling delight.

After perhaps an hour of work, it was time to play. Which was a fancy way of saying that Mikhail subjected himself to the humiliating ordeal of playing tug-o-war with a beast that was easily twice his mass and almost thirty centimeters taller than him. Predictably, he held onto one end of the rope and Sergei took great joy in dragging him all over his apartment by the other end as if his Master’s weight was negligible.

That went on for minutes before Mikhail conceded defeat and let go. Sergei continued his loop into the kitchenette before he realized that Mikhail was gone and he spun on his haunches to trot back to him. Sergei had the ability to walk on his two hindlegs, but usually used quadrupedal motion during playtime and… other activities.

“I’m tired,” Mikhail told a whimpering, puppy-eyed monster. “I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed.”

At “ready for bed”, Sergei let loose a loud, barking roar of anticipation. Sergei loved what happened after his Master got ready for bed.

He retreated into his private lavatory to clean up after his long and stressful day. His shower was purely utilitarian, four minutes or less always unless he had to scrub his skin raw. He turned the water off as soon as he was clean and then spent an extra two minutes with his foot planted on his toilet and his slick fingers between his buttocks. Mikhail shoveled lube past the wrinkled muscle of his hole until he could easily fit three digits inside of himself. This part, admittedly, had gotten easier over time the more his dog played with him. What once had been a virgin ass, he a loyal man to his wife and to his perceived heterosexuality, had become loose and soft. When had been his downfall? Ah, yes – _his_ Sergei and that long, eager tongue of his… the happy little growls and snorts that left him as he had fucked Mikhail with it. His wife, dearly departed, would certainly roll over in her grave if she knew what her once faithful husband had been allowing.

Sloppy and wet, he exited his bathroom and crawled into bed. Sergei was crouched at the foot of his mattress, his entire _Canis_ form rigid with tension as he waited to be allowed to join his Master. Mikhail spotted the hot pink tip of his dog’s cock peeking free of his sheath, the beast’s hips making minute thrusts that teased the penis further into the open.

Mikhail got on his hands and knees and snapped his fingers. “Mount, Sergei!”

With a ferocious, playful growl, the monster leaped onto his bed. Claw-tipped paws curled around Mikhail’s waist, pulling him back toward fur-soft hips. Sergei’s wet cock slipped impotently along his master’s own half-heard penis and Mikhail grunted as Sergei jackrabbited against him for several thrusts.

“You beast!” he cracked. He reached behind him and led the skinny glans to his sphincter. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, how Sergei smirked with his maw of fangs, his one eye flashing.

He mounted Mikhail in one ruthless lunge of his hips and his Master _keened_ as that thin head gave way to a terrifying length with a base as wide around as his wrist. He slapped both hands down on his bed and braced himself as Sergei gave himself over to his animal nature and hammered Mikhail’s ass. The pace was fast and rough as if they truly were nothing but animals rutting in the woods. Mikhail gasped and wheezed as his body was forced, over and over again, to split open for that long and thick cock. That inhuman phallus punched past his prostate without concern for Mikhail’s pleasure, his cockhead stabbing toward his Master’s bellybutton. He went from half-hard to leaking pre-cum onto his blankets in moments, head hanging low as his frame was pulled and pushed to his dog’s whims. The metal bedframe punched the wall, a constant _bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_ Of background noise to compliment every one of Mikhail’s choked hiccups and Sergei’s deep, rumbling snarls.

Mikhail moaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head, as he felt Sergei begin to swell against him. The howl that left the beast sounded like laughter, like rich and victorious laughter. The howl gave way to another snarl and then the monster bowed his immense torso over Mikhail’s puny mortal form. Mikhail gargled on spit and air as Segei’s jaws clamped down on his shoulder, holding him in place to take the monster’s knot like a bitch in heat.

Sergei swiveled his hips and then scraped his swollen base past Mikhail’s rutted-raw sphincter. He rumbled with glee with as his knot popped inside, locking them together. Mikhail’s breathing stuttered into a cry. His dog’s thin head was pushing against his innards, the pressure electric and burning, and Mikhail squeezed helplessly around the fist-round knot that kept him vulnerably wide open. There was a groan from the monster and the only reason Mikhail did not collapse to the mattress was Sergei’s paws pressing up toward his belly and his canines caught in his Master’s shoulder. Mikhail hung there, writhing in painful pleasure, as the monster filled him with hot seed. Sergei rocked his hips, the tug at Mikhail’s hole undoing him entirely, and his Master reached his own climax.

Mikhail groaned weakly, hands fisting in his blankets. Exhaustion caught his brain in a fog and all he could do was wait for minutes on end until Sergei’s knot deflated. His dog licked at the wound on his Master’s shoulder and began the process of untying them. Sergei had to tug and swivel before his cock finally unstopped him. Mikhail cried out as he _felt_ fat globs of semen spurt and trickle out of his ass, trickling down his taint. His dog groaned behind him, paws still at his Master’s waist.

“What a mess,” Mikhail groaned. He folded his arms and plopped his head down on them, buttocks still in the air. He sleepily closed his eyes. “Sergei,” he slurred as he snapped his fingers. His dog whined with want. “Clean up.”

There was no hesitation as the long, broad tongue of his good dog eagerly began to lap at his wrecked asshole.


End file.
